Sandgrounding

Southport they say is the “well to do” town in the Merseyside area. Many footballers, either current or old have set up home in the vicinity over the years. A great pastime, certainly for the “veteran” footballers is golf, and Southport is blessed with three top-notch courses, apparently. I know nothing of this sport, aside from being encouraged as a youngster to give it a go. On a very wet Edinburgh day, playing my considerably younger cousin, and losing, the ball dribbled forward, while the wet club went a country mile down the fairway like some naff caber toss! I resolved there and then to stop playing, and true to my word, save a fun round of putting perhaps, I have never gone back. 

Such a rebuttal didn’t set me up very well for my first day in banking. When introduced to the cigar smoking branch manager, he enquired what my handicap was? I could have been cheeky like my mate Andy whose response to a plain clothes policeman’s question at Larne ferry terminal around that time, “Do you have any Police records lads”, he quickly quipped back “I have Walking on the Moon”!! My reply was less humorous,  “I don’t play golf”. It brought a look akin to an alien having just landed. In the thirty-five years, that I lasted in that profession, I never once swung a club. A badge of honour in my world. 

Southport has been in the news in recent years for all the wrong reasons, with that desperately sad attack on a group of young girls just having fun. Up in Scotland, an equally “well to do” town, Dunblane is forever associated with another shocking incident. I decided on Bank Holiday Monday, right on the very last day of August, I would head down that way for the very first time, and do my bit to put a positive spin on the town.

Not that Southport needs me, or a Football Weekends article to rise above the pain. Just a few weeks before my arrival it was the epicentre of that golfing world, hosting the Open Championship at Royal Birkdale. Many of the Liverpool and Everton greats of yesteryear (the Rush’s, the Reid’s and Dalglish’s of this world) stay in and around Southport as I alluded to earlier, but mostly they are members at Formby, which merely puts thoughts of a man with a ukulele singing “when I‘m cleaning windows” in my mind!

The Scottish equivalent of Southport in footballer residential parlance is Bridge of Allan. It is quite central and well away from Glasgow, where many a player needs his breathing space far from the maddening pressure which certain clubs in that city generate. BoA is a landlocked town, quite close to Dunblane, but famed for its mineral springs. Southport, by contrast, is a coastal town, allowing a dipping of the toe in the Irish Sea as well as enjoying the delights of sophisticated Lord Street, the tree lined main boulevard of the town. All worthy escapes from the pressures that playing in nearby Liverpool or Manchester can generate.

With a population of just shy of 95,000, Southport is no small place. In our world of football, does the Sandgrounders largely “settled” non-league life and apparent lack of ambition correlate to affluence in the area? With Liverpool (17 miles), Preston (15), let alone a host of other conurbations within easy reach, are they sucking the fans out of Southport all too regularly? These questions and more were requiring answers. So, I was up with the larks for the lengthy drive down. The idea was to get to Southport as early as possible, park somewhere as close as possible to the Haig Avenue stadium, which is a great name, then do some field reconnaissance prior to the match with Hereford.

Is Haig Avenue named after Douglas Haig? If so, the Sandgrounders supporters might want to get in touch with CA Douglas Haig in Pergamino, Argentina, and set up a fan friendship. Wouldn’t that be both quirky and great! The same Douglas was also known as Earl Haig, whose idea introduced the poppy to British society in 1921. They have a poppy making factory near where I used to live at Canonmills in Edinburgh. It was all coming together nicely.

The stadium in Southport is a beauty, with a real old school charm, even if the seats in the stand have been modernised. But the shed behind one goal and the terraces around the rest of the ground are well looked after and afford fine views from wherever you stand. I am sure all those who have passed through the turnstiles here, even just the once, hold fond memories.

Haig Avenue, the street, and the stadium are found edging towards the eastern outskirts of Southport, maybe 1.5 miles from the central area and a little further down to the sea. Parking in any given side street is allowed, but if arriving late, many slots will have been bagged, certainly the ones closest. A number of streets nearby are early signalling of the more expensive housing stock of the town, if not immediately around Haig Avenue itself.  

Central Southport has many fine buildings and perhaps demonstrates that this has always been a town with a morsel of prosperity. The seafront was a disappointment, though. There is no beach, and the pier, allegedly the second longest in Britain, is closed for repairs presumably. Sea grasses are almost right up to the wall at the walkway when the tide is out. Those looking to take in the sun in Southport must head out of town for a proper beach, or utilise the delightful park grasses on the other side of all those “Pleasure Beach” activities that exist here as well as in Blackpool and Morecambe etc, albeit on a smaller scale in Southport. This notion of no beach surprised me, as the very name Sandgrounder, isn’t just the nickname of the football team, but also anyone from Southport. The idea is that the town is built on a vast sand plain, with extensive dunes. That aspect of Southport life must be just outside the central promenade area, but it’s not the lavish frontage I had pictured.

For 57 years Southport, the football club were a league club, from 1921 (curiously the poppy starting year) to 1978, when they failed in the re-election process and they were gone, never, unlike many others these days, to find a route back, as yet. I don’t know about you, but I have a fascination for ex-league clubs, and I prefer to see them do well than the new kids on the block. Sadly, Southport rarely made a serious attempt to get back into the FL, and while they were in the National League for a time, it was always a struggle year on year. Even dropping down a level to the National League North, life remains a struggle. This is the level where they must hope shoots of a recovery can see them one day launch themselves back up the pyramid like Stockport, Barrow, York, and Scunthorpe before them, I certainly hope so. One footnote worthy of mention here, Southport, who were replaced by Wigan Athletic, were the last team to be voted out of the league. Three 23rd placed finishes, not even bottom in any of those campaigns, and yet, that was enough to see them banished. 

Just a week or so prior to this trip, I had dipped into the NLN again with a visit to see Darlington v Chester, another couple of league oldies. In the pre-match chit chat, Darlo fans seemed nervous of full-time Chester, and maybe in a nutshell, this is the secret to success at this level. Those with a little more money going full-time can make a difference. If one might be permitted to counter that notion by sighting Arbroath FC up in Scotland. They are part-time and proud of it. Yet, they continually punch above their weight in a league of full-time teams, save Stenhousemuir this season. They pay top part-time wages, and by virtue, get the cream of those footballers who have good jobs that don’t want to give it up to go full time. Given Southport’s excellent geographical location, perhaps being part-time can’t be an excuse, although I appreciate the Lancashire area being festooned with clubs, and nipping in to sign a better player won’t be easy. They did have a short burst of trying full-time 2006-2008, but it largely didn’t work, and the maths were obviously hurting.    

It hasn’t all been suitably ambivalent and dull for the Sandgrounders. Badges of honour include being the first third tier “North” side to reach the last 8 of the FA Cup back in 1931, when nearby Everton gave them a right old doing, 9-1. A year later, the visit of Newcastle in the same competition brought 20,010 to Haig Avenue, a record that still stands, and given safety standards now (capacity 6,008), it will never be broken. The closest Southport have come to getting back to the FL came in 2011/12, having been promoted the previous term. They had been in the play-off places for a lengthy part of the season, but when the dust settled, they would end up 7th, just missing out on subsequent matches to determine that one extra promotion slot. They haven’t been that close since, sadly. 

As mentioned previously Hereford were in town, a first sighting of them for me without the “United” attachment, although judging by a banner and a song trotted out by the visiting fans, they still embrace the old name. Robert De Niro of all people has messed with my world! When he was in the film Ronin, he tested Sean Bean’s character by asking “what are the colour of the gates at Here Ford?”! It kind of stuck in my mind ever since, but it’s annoying! In my Meadowbank Thistle days, we had a lad who regularly pitched up to watch and quaff with us. I have no idea what his real name was. He was always just referred to as Hereford! His side certainly had to put in a monumental effort to stay in the National League North last term, where a catalogue of postponed games meant they were playing catch up for weeks and playing from memory by the end. They just survived on the last day but have started the new campaign very well. Just ahead of this one, they had held the aforementioned impressive Chester to a 1-1 draw at Edgar Street, and from the off here, they had the greater cohesion and slicker passing moves, even if bright yellow shorts with a white shirt, seemed an odd combo. 

Southport weren’t about to throw in the towel. They showed great determination. Indeed, they are referred to by the fans as “Haig Army”, “Port” or “Yellow”, although they are sporting a more natty gold and black outfit this term. The one black strip across the upper chest was very akin to a classic Meadowbank Thistle kit of yesteryear, so it wasn’t just the stadium giving me delightful throwback memories. 

It was all square at the turn, which was fair. Aside from an early hitting of the post by Hereford and the ensuing stramash where they had two further goes to score. The visitors were on top but lacking that bullish cutting edge to be in front. The second half deteriorated, and little was happening. The ref tried his best to liven things up by awarding a corner to Hereford for a delayed goal kick, and then gifted them the chance to lead, pointing to the spot for a challenge that didn’t seem that bad, but I was way down the other end, so what do I know! It was duly converted courtesy of a cheeky wee dink, and then things got worse for Southport with their man of the match, Harry Pirrett getting a straight red card. With all these things not going the Sandgrounders way, you wouldn’t have blamed them for just chucking it, but in the last 10 minutes they pushed and pushed, forcing a number of corners, one great save and a number of other near squeaks. Alas, it was all too little too late, and the points went south with the happy Bulls.

In a nutshell of one match, the entire existence of modern Southport FC was almost encapsulated. All very laidback, sanguine and ultimately fruitless. The effort in the last 10 minutes with 10 men made sure they’d get applause, but the near 2,000 crowd deserved better. I sincerely hope better days are just around the corner for these long-suffering fans who have almost become comatose to the lack of success. There was no anger at the end, nor any turning on the players or staff. Most fanbases could learn from the Sandgrounders. Of course, they want to see the team win, but expectations are perfectly pitched, and by virtue, little can ultimately be a disappointment.